


Beginning

by Fantine_Black



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Credence Barebone Gets a Hug, Credence Barebone Heals, Credence Barebone Needs a Hug, Daddy Kink, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Forehead Kisses, Good Original Percival Graves, Kissing, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Original Percival Graves is Bad at Feelings, Original Percival Graves is a Softie, Psychological Trauma, Short & Sweet, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 22:11:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18669376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fantine_Black/pseuds/Fantine_Black
Summary: "Percival knew grief could be deadly.It was the reason, perhaps, why he had not chosen a love for himself: the safety of wizardkind could not die in his arms, gasping and bleeding -How wrong he'd been."A stray remark causes Credence to have a breakdown, and now Percival is in the fight of his life.





	Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not really sure how to tag this: Credence and Percival are not in a physical relationship, and though it gets very intimate, this isn't about sex. What they have might become sexual, but right now it's the furthest thing from both their minds.

Percival knew grief could be deadly.

He'd seen it often enough in the War, the sacrifices that were not, really, anything but suicides for a fallen comrade, sibling. Why they kept urging you to find a sweetheart to come home to, to help bear the loss. The same reason, perhaps, why Percival had never again chosen a love for himself, rather given himself to a notion, an idea: the safety of wizardkind could not die in his arms, clinging and bleeding –

How wrong he'd been. It'd been an offhand remark, rather callous, in retrospect, but he’d only wanted to express the certainty, the absolute rightness he'd been feeling for weeks now:

“Yes, Credence, of course you can stay. As long as you like. Forever is fine.”

Friendly and light, because he knew what was underneath - _don’t touch it_ , they used to say. It could bury a man alive. Find the right amount of Firewhiskey to keep the thoughts at bay and call it sophistication. Laugh lest you drown.

He'd realised his fault half a breath too late. You see, everyone he'd ever met had been cared for, to a certain extent – no, that wasn’t right, but a brilliant and strategic mind, superior skill, and connections - they'd pushed him up too quickly, to bigger and better things, away from mere humans and their petty concerns. Even in the war, his comrades had all been looked after – Ilvermorny was a comfortable place. Never had he been among the No Majes, the half-beings, the Squibs. Not in any way that counts.

They say kindness is cheap where he comes from. But kindness is only cheap to those who have a lot of it. To throw a scrap of meat to a starving beast –

Credence shook.

“Are you OK there, son?” He touched ice cold, clammy skin. “I meant it, every word, you have a home here as long as you – ”

The next move was pure instinct. As Credence sagged forward, Graves put his arms around him and pulled him into an extremely tight hug. “Hey there,” he whispered, as Credence flung his arms around his neck, causing him to cup the boy's head in response, “what’s all this? You're fine, Credence you – ”

The shaking got worse. Credence clung to him so forcefully he could feel the indents of his nails along his back, little bruises forming along his back and arms, but the boy kept gasping as if someone was stabbing him in the gut, again and again and again. Twenty years of pent up pain, flooding him in one moment – too much for any heart to bear, and Graves _hadn’t noticed_.

“Baby,” he said, pressing the boy’s face into the hollow between his cheek and collarbone, then turning his own head and kissing his cheek, three, four, five times: “Baby, stay with me. I've got you. Just breathe.”

No use. The shockwaves kept coming, trapping Credence’s whole body in a rictus of pain. Graves snagged a blanket from a nearby couch and draped it over his shoulders, but Credence kept keening, and hiccupping, pressing their bodies so tightly together it felt like he was trying not to dissolve. His legs gave out, and Graves cradled him against his chest, but it wasn’t enough: the boy was caught in a pain so deep it was cutting him up right before Graves' eyes. Graves drew the blanket tighter, all but swaddling the boy, before scooping him up in his arms, pressing his head more tightly against his chest. “I'm here, baby,” he whispered, “hold on now, hold on for me -”

He ran to the bedroom and let Credence's legs slip to the ground, freeing a hand to yank off the covers. He picked him back up and laid him down onto the mattress, but Credence wailed at the loss of contact, so Graves draped himself over him, using his whole body to still the terrible, terrible shaking. “Shhh,” he kept whispering at the boy’s pained: “ _Ungh_ , _ungh_ , _aaah_ ,” stroking his hair and kissing away his tears. “Oh, my boy, my _boy_  - ”

Credence hugged him back, and Graves turned them both sideways, tucking the covers in around them as Credence curled up his legs and pressed his head against Graves' sternum. Graves held him as Credence finally screamed out his pain against his chest. “There’s a boy,” he said, hand on the back of his neck and pressing a kiss to his crown. “There’s my good, brave boy…” He kept holding on, an anchor in the deluge, and let Credence’s pain rip through them both.

Finally the boy sagged; Percival startled. “Baby?” he whispered, tilting his head back, but Credence nestled back to him, cheek to cheek. “So tired, Daddy,” he mumbled.

Graves gasped at the absolute rightness that filled him at the sound of that word. “That’s OK,” he said, warmth flooding through him at the softness of his boy, his limp and pliant body begging to be touched, kissed, cherished. He pulled him on top, heart to heart, nestling his face back in the crook of his neck. "You rest, sweetheart, I'm here."

Credence sighed and nestled in at his side, and Percival couldn't stop stroking his hair, kissing the tear streaked side of his face. He only stopped when Credence crinkled his nose, putting his arms around Percival instead and holding him as tight as he was able.

Graves lay down then, cradling his whole world to his side. “You rest, darling,” he whispered once more, his voice buckling under the weight of repressed emotion.

“Daddy’s got you."

Credence looked up, fumbled for Graves' hand, took it to his lips and kissed it.

"Love you," he whispered, and then Graves cried too.

 


End file.
